


run, run, lost boy

by psybexm



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, No Dialogue, Speculation, i guess - freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22984897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psybexm/pseuds/psybexm
Summary: Once, there was a boy.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	run, run, lost boy

**Author's Note:**

> we have virtually no rose backstory to speak of so i guess i gotta make my own food around here.
> 
> title is from Ruth B's "Lost Boy".

Once, there was a boy. He was ten, still so naïve, still so innocent. His mother was a nurse. His father lead Hammerlocke’s gym with Pokémon forged of steel and stone. For those brief moments, life was all he could have wanted.

When he was young, still so unaware of upcoming crisis and fear, his father brought him and his siblings to the Wild Area. Mainly for his brother’s sake—he was truly the only one responsible enough at the tender age of twelve. Still, he had wandered away from his family; his endless curiosity fueled him much the same as it would continue to do for years to come.

Perhaps it was fate that he had found a Cufant, wounded and alone. Perhaps it was fate that it had trusted him enough to let him free it from the rocks it had been trapped under. Perhaps it was fate that his father allowed him to keep it.

Once, there was a boy. He was thirteen, kept awake by anxious thoughts and what-if’s, working himself to the bone for any chance to prove himself to his father. It was never enough.

He didn’t want to become a Gym Leader. His father insisted; he had already bonded so much with his Cufant, surely he would take well to the position of Gym Leader.

Alas, it was not meant to be, and the words and touches that followed left him quietly sobbing as he stole bottles of his mother’s makeup to hide bruises and scrapes. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

He had only wanted to be good enough for his father. How foolish, he had been.

Once, there was a boy. He was fifteen, recently endorsed for the Gym Challenge, all optimism and hopeful dreams as he travelled the vast region he called home. His mother had been in tears as he left, his father had only said he hoped to face him in an official match later down the road.

He made a name for himself as the son of Galar’s greatest Gym Leader. He wanted to be more than just that; he wanted to become Champion—needed it. Maybe then, his father would tell him that he was _proud._

He fought his way through the Finals, or so the story goes, challenged the Champion herself, with her cocky smirk and elegant Hatterene. For a moment, he had perhaps thought he could win.

He lost. Everyone knows that, of course. He lost, and his world crumbled. Father was so _disappointed,_ there was nothing more that he could do.

Two weeks later, embers crackled in smoke-tainted air as Hammerlocke Stadium went up in flames. His father never made it out alive. The flames only continued to roar, merciless in the lives they had stolen so abruptly.

Nothing more that he could do.

Once, there was a young man. He was eighteen, fresh out of high school and still not entirely sure of the direction he wanted to head in. He headed to university in spite of it all; perhaps not what his father would have wanted, but it’s at least _something._

He met a girl, piercing olive eyes looking him over as she fiddled with a loose strand of strawberry-blonde hair. Somehow, she took a liking to him. He stuck by her side in return. For once, he wasn’t alone.

_(Years later, he would look back and wonder and wonder and wonder—)_

Once, there was a young man. He was twenty-two, short on cash and desperate for anything to push him in the right direction. He spoke with _her_ over the phone, and perhaps jokingly, she had suggested he start a business.

Much to her surprise, that’s exactly what he did. A small company based on providing sustainable energy. His father would’ve scoffed, had he been there.

Perhaps it was still not enough, not that he would ever know.

Once, there was a young man. He was twenty-five, having found himself working other jobs to make ends meet whilst his company began its steady ascent to the top. It was gruelling work—pay was little, but it helped, so he didn’t complain.

A position within the League is expected to open up within the next few years, he had heard on the news. Not battling, but rather something else. Something important.

Despite having juggled enough as is, he kept it in mind. He had a degree for a reason, after all.

Once, there was a young man. He was twenty-seven, recently appointed Chairman of the League. _She_ was by his side as he accepted the position, promised to stay by his side with whatever he may have needed.

She became his secretary. He finally quit the odd jobs he had worked to keep himself afloat.

Once, there was a man. He was thirty, and she had just made a breakthrough, harnessed the mysterious power of Dynamaxing into a wearable bracelet. The League only grew in popularity; gone were the days of old where the League was merely a regional competition.

He thought about endorsing a child to participate in a few years’ time. Only time would tell.

Once, there was a man. He was thirty-two, and had chosen to endorse a young boy from the sleepy town of Postwick. Some called him daft; a boy from a small countryside town fighting his way to the Champion’s throne had seemed so impossible, so out of the question.

The boy won. He had an eye for talent, after all; he could see the spark. The boy had been practically destined to win. Pride had swelled in his chest as the young boy gazed around the stadium, seemingly as shocked as the crowds themselves.

An eye for talent, he had. Perhaps he had still been so naïve, even then. A child as Champion; the boy was ten. The press loved it. The boy, not so much.

However, he learned of a potential crisis. A millennia away, but a crisis nonetheless. He began his first bits of research into the Darkest Day of old.

Nobody was any the wiser. How could they be?

Once, there was a man. He was thirty-six, well-adjusted to his position, company thriving. He had been paying visits to an orphanage in Hammerlocke, for charity, of course. The stadium still reeked of smoke, still burned bright against evening skies, though perhaps only he realized it.

It was during one of these visits to the orphanage that he met another young boy. Only nine, bruised up and mistrusting of everyone that drew near. He saw potential. He had an eye for talent, after all.

Papers were filled out, and the boy came home with him. She asked how he planned to manage both his duties and a child. He only assured her that everything would be fine. Why wouldn’t it be? He wasn’t steadily becoming one of the most powerful men in Galar for nothing, after all.

How wrong, he had been, though he would not know it until many years later.

Once, there was a man. He was forty, and he had given his son his first Pokémon. Not a traditional starter, by any means, but his son was ecstatic. Pride once again swelled warm in his chest, simply from seeing the joy on his son’s face.

In a few year’s time, he may even be able to run through the Gym Challenge as he himself had done so many years ago. The thought gave him a twinge of nerves; is this how his mother had felt all those years ago, when he had left home for the same reason?

In the meantime, a beast was discovered underneath Hammerlocke Stadium. Ancient and slumbering, he almost cried in relief as he realized this could solve the issues that Galar of the future would face. He only needed to wake it up.

His son was more than happy to go searching for Wishing Stars for him. Anything to make his father proud.

There is a man. He is forty-two, having just endorsed his son for the Gym Challenge, though initially reluctant. His son promises to collect more Wishing Stars along the way. His worries are eased, if only slightly.

The Champion himself has endorsed two children. His little brother, and a girl he assumes is a friend. They seem perhaps slightly intimidated as he speaks to them—with good reason, he supposes; anyone would feel nervous coming face to face with Galar’s most influential man.

His son collects four Gym Badges, and proceeds to destroy a mural in his hunt for Wishing Stars. He is disqualified without a second thought. For such an offence against Galar’s history, he disowns the boy, too, despite the way his heart aches.

No more Wishing Stars can be collected, but they already have enough. The energy crisis that has plagued his nightmares for years now will finally be put to rest. The boy was only one part of it. Only one part. Nothing more, nothing less. One little tile in a much bigger mural, and tiles can always be replaced.

Later, after the Semi-finals, his meeting with the Champion is interrupted by the two children he had endorsed. Once they leave, he can only smile and shake his head. How simple-minded, the whole lot of them are, to not see the glaring issue that stares all of them down.

It is during the Championship match that he tells of his plan. The beast has already fled for the roof, leaving him alone to pick up the pieces underground. The Champion comes to his aid, obviously, quickly heading after the beast without so much as a second thought.

Everyone has their role to play, and the Champion knows his. The rest of Galar simply needs to sit tight and wait as a legend unfolds before their very eyes.

The Champion’s little brother comes rushing in. He crushes the boy’s team with ruthless steel and a sharp tongue. _Just as father would have wanted._

The girl comes next. She wins. She _wins._ Externally, he smiles and _claps_ for her. Internally, he is _screaming._

_(Copperajah faints. The Champion reigns victorious another year, blowing kisses to the crowd as she daintily retracts her Hatterene. He acts like he isn’t bothered, acts like he isn’t a failure, and then and then and then—)_

The duo heads for the roof. It is only later, when the two come rushing down with the Champion slumped over across their arms, that he realizes how wrong everything has gone.

Eternatus has been captured, but not by the Champion. His carefully-constructed plan has fallen to bits.

Not even half an hour later, he willingly turns himself into the authorities, despite _her_ ceaseless protests.

_Still so naïve._


End file.
